4:00.
I scoffed to myself. It was the fifth night my sleep was interrupted by the misery of my heart - or perhaps, it was the work of a loving Father who longed to lure me into the wilderness of my own emotions to speak tenderly to my heart..?
I don't know.
All I know was the perennial question that clung heavily onto my mind:
Will I, ever be fully restored?
Will I, ever be healed - completely - to love again, after all of the betrayal?
Will I, ever be able to fully allow someone access to my heart and risk being hurt all over again?
He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds. (Psalm 147)
-----
My heart was beating fast; excitement welled up at the thought of J - a new man I am currently seeing - picking me up from the airport close to midnight.
And there he was, grinning from ear to ear the moment he saw me emerged from the arrival gate.
He walked briskly towards me and immediately took all of my luggage before giving me a warm long hug.
We walked towards his car, and to my surprise, he had prepared a bouquet of wild flowers (my favorite) before closing the door for me.
I've known J for six years now, and to witness him did all these for me - I have to admit he went way beyond his comfort zone.
Yet before I could enjoy and taste the sweetness of his gestures, the enjoyment was swiftly robbed off of my own mind; as if someone had poured acid over a beautiful painting I was admiring.
The hurt seeped in mercilessly, and before I knew it, I found my heart shrinking out fear of the all too familiar path towards potentially another broken relationship.
Papa, it's been four months you know...
Papa, someone told me he loves me, but why does my heart shrivel in fear?
Papa, why do I find myself withdrawing to a space of potential pain when I am supposed to bask in goodness?
I smiled at J as he looked away - shifting his attention to the road, tears welled up as I turned to look outside the window.
Fully restored?
I don't even know what complete restoration truly means at this point.
And I don't think I could ever forget the searing pain that I had experienced.
...and frankly, I am not so sure I want to forget.
As much as the thought of a shiny, unblemished heart is quintessential, I have grown to accept and embrace the scars of my heart.
These scars are proof of my healed wounds.
These scars have enlarged the capacity of my heart to love like Jesus.
And most importantly, these scars have aided me in ministering to the other wounded hearts out there reading this blog.
The evidence of healing does not lie in the absence of scar.
The evidence of healing is the scar itself - the scar that has shaped me to be a bigger person.
His mercies begin afresh each morning.
His manna was rained upon His people every day.
Did you know, the word "manna" literally means "what is it?"
I might not know the mystery of God, what I do know though… is that His steadfast love never ceases.
He loves me; therefore He will uphold my life.
There is no need for me to cling on to the littleness of my heart, the daunting thought of my fears of the future anymore.
Except to walk with Jesus - day by day, manna to manna, mercies to mercies - for He is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think.
And should your mind beg the question:
"What if my new relationship fails?"
My dear,
What if your new relationship thrives?
What if it inspires your circle of friends?
What if it equips your future generations?
What if your story becomes someone's last reason to hope in their darkest time?
What if it is in the daily sustenance that you began to experience the unlimited love of God that surpasses all suffering?
You are not broken my precious friend... you merely broke free.
Because You've always stood up for me, I am free to run and play. (Psalm 63)
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